Make The Yuletide Gay
by AssassinOfRome
Summary: Advent Calender for the Avengers! 25 fics in 25 days... hopefully. Mostly Clintasha, Thorki and Science Bros, with other pairings if I'm feeling frisky. Written for a friend. Blame her for this abomination. Rated T for swearing and general naughtiness. Merry Christmas! AOR
1. Post

**1. Post **

Thor smiled gleefully at his list. Natasha had told him to use the neatest handwriting he could, so Santa could have every chance of reading the carefully-printed words. But the Migard pens were so small, not a patch on the elaborate quills used in Odin's court. Bruce had a similar problem, as the Hulk had a particular hold on him; waiting to emerge. Usually, the good doctor would spend the day napping, as to control the beast but he hadn't wanted to miss his slot for Father Christmas. Steve's letter was written in sloping script, every word chosen to have the upmost affect. Fury would arrive in the morning to take the letters away to SHIELD, who apparently had a direct link with Santa. Yeah, right.

As always, Tony had sniffed at the idea of 'sending junk to a stupid fakey in the north pole', pouring himself another shot of brandy. Natasha had scowled so fiercely at him that he reconsidered, tipping the amber liquid back into the bottle.

Tony hated Christmas. It was time for being with a family that he didn't have. Pepper was gone, as was Rhodey. They were both married now (not to each other, that would be weird. No, to Happy Hogan and a woman whos name escaped the genius respectively) and possibly on the other side of the world. Tony hadn't bothered to keep track. Also, it wasn't as if he needed presents. If he wanted something, he could just buy it. _The curse of the rich,_ he called it.

Once again, he eyed the Avengers, all huddled around the table in the kitchen. Thor's pink tongue poked out from his lips as he concerntrated. Tony could see him shakily make out the word 'Loki' on the paper, which almost ripped with the strain. The arc-reactor flickered with Tony's sadness. He didn't understand it. Why was Thor always so hopeful? Loki was evil, scum of the Earth. And nothing would change that. Apart from, apparently, Santa.

But now it was late, and the tower was in slumber. With minium noise, Tony crept out of his labratory. A loud creak came from one of the floor boards. Tony winced, watching Clint (who was curled up in his nest in the ceiling) stirr. Thankfully, the agent didn't wake and simply rolled over, exposing a grand pile of letters.

With a smirk, Tony slipped in his own and snuck away into the darkness. There was no harm in hoping.

_Dear Santa, _

_It's me, Tony. _

_Just wondering if you could, you know, give me another chance? I've been pretty good this year, saving New York and keeping my boasting to a minimum. So... see what you can do? Just this once? For me? I'll throw in a free phone! _

_Love__ Regards, _

_Anthony Edward Stark. _


	2. Music

**2. Music. **

Bruce hated Christmas music. They drove him up the wall, with their constant cheeriness and tinkling melodies. Once or twice, he'd darted out of a packed shopping mall, frightened of Hulking out in front of everyone.

But now, as he sat on the crisp, leather sofa, surrounded by the shambolic super-hero family, all humming carols, he'd never felt so complete in his whole life. Gently leaning his head against Tony's shoulder, the scientist fell into a deep, contented sleep.

**2 +1: Santa Baby **

_(These are the lyrics to the Santa Baby: Avengers Version I put on YouTube.) _

**Thor: ** Santa Buddy,  
Stick a Loki under the tree  
For me.  
I've been an awful good God.  
Santa Buddy,  
And hurry down the chimney tonight.

**Steve: ** Santa Buddy,  
I guess I need a dress-shirt or two  
Light Blue.  
I've been frozen a while,  
Santa Buddy,  
And hurry down the chimney tonight.

**Loki: ** Think of all the fun I've missed  
Think of all the heroes that I haven't tricked.  
Next year I could be just as good  
If you give me my Thor to kiss.

**Tony: ** Santa Pally, I want a robot  
And, that is _not_ a lot.  
I've been a hero all year.  
Santa Pally,  
So hurry down the chimney tonight.

**Potts:** Santa, honey  
One thing I really do need,  
The deed,  
To the tower I 'own'.  
Santa, honey  
So hurry down the chimney tonight.

**Bruce: ** Santa Buddy,  
Fill my stocking with a cure  
Fo' sure.  
No more Hulking-out pain.  
Santa Baby,  
Hurry down the chimney tonight.

**Nat: ** Come and trim my Christmas tree,  
Add some decorations made from TNT  
Or I could use some Christmas bird,  
But that's a little thing between Barton and me *wink*

**Clint: ** Santa buddy,  
I really hope this isn't too hard; some cards.  
Rememberin' Coulson this year.  
Santa Buddy,  
So hurry down the chimney tonight.

**Males: **Hurry down the chimney tonight.  
**All: **Hurry tonight.


	3. Mulled Wine

**3. Mulled Wine**

Loki sucked in a deep breath of the frosty air, feeling the ice fill his lungs. He could breathe again. Escaping Asgard prison was no mean feat, especially with his silver tongue gagged. Casting non-verbal spells took so much effort. The god stumbled, almost colliding with a birch tree. He looked around; Central Park. Not bad. A bit too cold for most mortal, who scurried around with heavy coats pulled up to their chins. This made Loki smirk. It was like Earth was welcoming him home with a cold snap. How kind.

Feeling his head spin, the trickster sunk down onto a bench, feeling the cold iron sting his skin. Tentively, he touched his mouth, which still burned from the searing gag. Such a punishment would not have been awful enough for him. Odin had insured that he suffered, however, by constantly increasing the heat of the metal around his mouth. The hidden Jotuun skin burned in the heat of a thousand suns. It was a miracle he could still move his cheeks; blisters and scalds ringed his thin lips.

It was late, as far as he could guess. The winter sun was lower in the sky, ready to dip behind the horizon. Greyish clouds hung overheat; not dark enough for rain, not light enough for snow. A bitter wind swept through the park, chilling Loki in his thin prisoner robes. They were of fine cut, though. Not matter what grevious actions he had commited, he was still a prince.

A clan of people had gathered in the play-park next to Loki. They were dressed ridiculously, in the most brightest of colours. Juvenille elf-ears and scarlet Santa hats perched on their heads, like extravagant birds. Loki scowled at one set of reindeer antlers, which jingled merrily with unnecessary bells. Reindeer Games indeed. They were cow horns; a completely different affair.

The celebrating people did not look sober. Many clutched beverages of one kind or another. A sickly-sweet aroma drifted past Loki's nostrils, making him twitch. Mulled wine, just like Mother used to make for the Healers of Asgard. _It's a potent brew, _she had warned him. _Far too much for the little sorcerers of Asgard. _He had begged and pleaded for years, desiring only a single sip. With the hesitance that only a mother could with-hold, she eventually allowed him a goblet of his own on Thor's 15th Name Day. Loki had felt so special, sipping away at the wine. Far more grown-up than his arrogant brother, who still sipped at the childish mead. He remembered it tasted faintly of perfume and nothing else.

For the first time in years, Loki felt a small surge of peace shudder through him. As a light snow began to fall, he lay down on the freezing bench and shut his eyes, beginning to dream of wine.


	4. Bells

**4. Bells **

**(WARNING: Mentions of homophobia. Don't like, don't read.)**

Steve was being followed, that he was certain of.

He was jogging, just like he did every other morning. The cool, crisp air made it easier to think. Don't get him wrong, SHIELD and Stark Tower were both brilliant but it was nice to have some space to breathe. Everyone bustled around, each concerned with only their own buisness. It was down-right rude, sometimes, but Steve had realised his out-dated morals didn't always ring true.

For a while, he had withheld the slightly-homophobic view he had been raised with. Gays were interfering with the word of God, which Steve held very highly. He never gave into slander in public, though he didn't look too pleased when a random male civillian kissed him after a rescue. SHIELD were not happy. They couldn't have America's golden boy being biased! But after months of pleading and powerpoints, it was Thor who won Steve around.

Thor adored Loki like no-one ever had, or would ever do. Despite his crimes, the thunder god still worshipped the ground the trickster trod on. And, even though it was with fleeting glances, Steve could tell Loki loved his brother immensely too. At first, it made him feel nauseated. Two brothers! It was foul. Despite this, his mind did turn back to his time with Peggy. It had been too short to call love, but he really did fancy her. Much like the two gods.

Steve was now a fully functioning member of the Gay-Lesbian-Bisexual-Transgender Alliance. But none of this has to do with why he held the idea that he was being followed. The super-soldier whipped around. No-one behind him. Hesitantly, he took a step forward.

_Jingle-jingle. _

There it was again. That infernal noise that followed him all the way from Stark Tower. Was it one of Tony's tracking devices? Steve turned again. Still nothing.

Jingle-jingle.

This time, Steve was ready. With a high jump, he spun around. A few Japanese tourists gave him an odd look, before scurrying away. Suddenly, there was a dampness around his pantleg. Looking down, he saw a blob of soaking white fur.

"Well, hello there." He smiled, running a hand down the kitten's back. Though wet, the animal's fur was still surprisingly soft and springy under his fingers. The poor little thing trembled though, obviously cold. Torrential rain had soaked most of New York, though luckily not enough to flood. It had, however, resorted in one soggy moggy.

Scooping the kitten up into his arms, he felt the tug of claws under his white cotton shirt. When he admonished the cat, it gave out the sweetest mew. The cool steel of its nametag pressed against his bicep. Delicately, he reached for it, flipping the disc over. His heart skipped a beat.

**Hello, my name is Snowball!  
If found return to Peggy Carter at 24 Northumberland Terrace. **

_Peggy Carter. _

Could it be?

Steve berated himself for being so childish. There must be thousands of Peggy Carters all over New York. But it didn't stop him hailing a cab and scurry in, the address already on his lips.

*  
24 Northumberland Terrace was a completely ordinary house, thank you very much. The door was a soft blue, nothing out of the ordinary. In the window sat two objects, a vase full of posies and an porcelain woman figurine. Flowery curtains haloed the whole image. There was a clean mat by the door that read 'Welcome!'. Every blade of grass was equally cut.

It seemed so old-fashioned that it took Steve's breath away. In this age of slow minds and quick computers, only a woman like Peggy could survive such undiluted properness. When they first met, he had suspected she had a little OCD, though it was not named then. There was just something about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It made her only more interesting.

The cab-driver scowled at him as the super soldier exited the cab. Even with a hefty tip, he still didn't smile. Maybe some people didn't like cats. Snowball mewled at the jolt of temperature, and apart from that, the only sound was the patter of Steve's shoes against the cold pavement. He paused at the doorstep, juggling both cat and conscience.

Was this really a good idea? It had been seventy years. She might not even remember him. His heart gave a painful wrench at that. Of course she remembered. She had to.

Steve hesitantly pushed the shiny brass door-bell. It seemed like it had been polished; the gleam was so bright. There was the bustle of someone appearing in the corridor then the soft blue door creaked open.

The woman was a spitting image of Peggy, even down to the inches of her height. Warm brown eyes stared up at him expectantly. Words abandoned him as tears sprung into his eyes.

But the world crashed down around him. It had been seventy years. This couldn't be Peggy. Not his Peggy, at least.

"Muh-Miss Carter?" He stuttered. The woman gave a soft smirk.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Is this your cat?" He held out the bundle in his arms and she gasped happily. One small hand relieved him of his burden.

"Oh thank you thank you thank you!" A grin stretched over her cheeks. Her arms fitted perfectly around Snowball, who began to purr. "You're a hero, you know that?"

"Yeah. I get it a lot."

The woman paused, head cocked to one side. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Steve didn't quite know what to say, so just went with the truth, like he always did in tough situations.

"I used to work with your mother a few years ago."

_'Damn,' _he thought from the safety of his own mind. _'These time periods get so confusing.'_ It certainly felt like he had only last spoken to Peggy a few years ago. The woman frowned.

"I highly doubt that, sir. My mother has been dead for ten years."

Oh. That hurt. The woman, this false Peggy, still noticed his pain.

"Don't worry, sir. She lived to a good age and was very happy."

There was a long silence.

"I'm sorry for your loss. It just... you reminded me of her so much..."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

Their sad smiles matched. Unfortunatley, Snowball meowed, ruining the moment. Steve flushed, backing away.

"I-I should go."

"Yes, of course. Wouldn't want to withhold you from your duties. Thanks again, Mr...?"

"Rogers. Steve Rogers."


End file.
